


First He Ate My Heart

by deepsix



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepsix/pseuds/deepsix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five sexual fantasies Eames has about Arthur, and one Arthur has about Eames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First He Ate My Heart

**1.**

Arthur would be in his lap.

They'd be on the sofa, and Arthur's thighs would be braced over his hips. He'd be naked, his cock pressed between them, and Eames' cock would be in his ass. They'd be sweating, sticking to the sofa, and all you'd hear would be the squeak of leather and the slap of skin when Arthur slid down onto him, and the sound of their breathing, harsh and ragged and desperate.

Eames would hold him while Arthur fucked himself on Eames' cock, and it would be hot, so hot, and Eames would lick the salt from Arthur's throat, fingers sliding in the sweat beading on Arthur's skin, and Arthur's ass would be so fucking tight. It would be torture to slide into him, the tight heat of Arthur's ass a crushing pressure around Eames' throbbing cock, but it would be so slick, and Arthur would be so desperate for it. They would fuck until Arthur begged, raw and needy, and maybe then Eames would touch him, would finish him off with his hand -- or maybe he would let Arthur up, and do it with his tongue -- but he would come in Arthur's ass first, bare and messy and thick, and there would be bruises on Arthur's thighs for days.

*

 **2.**

He'd have Arthur's cock in his mouth, lips stretched, jaw aching, and Arthur would be licking him too, tongue hot and wet over the head of Eames' cock. Arthur would be less certain, mouth falling away when it got to be too much, pushing too far into Eames' mouth, letting his cock slide over Eames' tongue and shove at the back of Eames' throat.

He'd have no skill, but it would be almost as good, feeling Arthur lose his control like that, unable to keep going for how turned on he'd be. And Eames would reach down and put his cock back in Arthur's mouth, wanting too badly himself to resist the temptation of Arthur's lips parted in a moan, and this time Arthur would hold him there, hands on Eames' ass, palming him, and Eames would fuck down into his mouth, and he'd swallow around Arthur's cock, and the entire thing would fall apart, breathless and wet with come.

*

 **3.**

They'd be in the shower, and it would be scalding, chokingly hot around them, and their skin would be heated and wet and too sensitive, and they'd be gasping against the steam. Arthur would let Eames press him against the wall, push their cocks together, and he'd hitch one leg around Eames' thigh, pulling him closer. Eames would have to hold him up, hands on Arthur's sides, fingers skimming over the wet edges of Arthur's ribs as they thrust together, or while Arthur palmed them both, or while Eames slid his cock against the slick seam of Arthur's ass.

There would be the slick grind of Arthur's cock against Eames' stomach, and Eames' mouth on Arthur's throat, his collarbones, his nipples. It would be so gorgeously hot, watching the water run into Arthur's mouth, drip from his gasping lips. It would be too hot for anything but to gasp into each other's skin, and Arthur's hair would be ruined, dripping into his face, and he'd stare back at Eames, mouth slick and slack with pleasure, eyes wide with wonder.

*

 **4.**

Maybe they'd just wake up one morning, and there'd be Arthur in his bed, in boxers and an undershirt, and they'd just roll together, warm under the blankets. Arthur would let Eames touch him, let Eames find the shape of his cock through his underwear, and Arthur would be hard already, having been thinking about it, about Eames' hands on him. He'd have been thinking about touching Eames himself, about fitting their bodies together, and how badly, how desperately, how uncontrollably he wanted him, and he wouldn't be able to stop.

Maybe they'd kiss, mouths dry and swollen with sleep, but eventually they'd lose their clothes, and he can't even decide, but maybe he'd let Arthur fuck him, frantic and hard, or maybe they'd just rut together, slow and sweating under the covers, hands everywhere, and Arthur would shake with it, tension coming undone, too hot for Eames' touch.

*

 **5.**

It would be Arthur who'd do it. It would have to be.

It would be after a job, and maybe they'd each have a flight to catch, but they'd be somewhere private, maybe still at the hotel, just the two of them, and it would be awkwardly silent, because they'd have been on the verge of this the whole time. They'd have been waiting.

Eames doesn't know how it would start, what words would be enough to turn it into this, but it would end with Arthur's mouth on his and Arthur's fingers in his ass, and then Arthur would slide into him, so slowly, pressing him into the mattress, and Eames would be moaning for it, aching for the heavy heat of Arthur's cock inside him. He'd be rubbing his cock in the sheets, reaching behind his for Arthur's thighs, and Arthur's skin would be so hot and soft against his.

They'd kiss the whole time, Eames' head tilted back so he could get at Arthur's mouth, and their lips would be slick with each other's saliva, their breathing a shared series of gasps with each snap of Arthur's hips. It would be Arthur on top of him, Arthur inside him, Arthur all around and everywhere, and Eames would shudder apart in orgasm untouched, because it would be enough, after all this time, just to have Arthur want him.

*

 **1.**

It would have been after that first job, in the shitty hostel in East Berlin, but instead of Eames telling him that he took things too seriously, that he needed to lighten up, that he needed to get over himself -- instead of that, Eames wouldn't have taken off.

He would have stayed, and maybe he'd have bothered to listen, and maybe he'd have bothered to learn something. Maybe he'd have fallen into bed with Arthur after all, the way Arthur had fucking wanted. They'd have fucked on the mattress on the floor, not even caring that the sheets were musty and one of the springs was broken, because the taste of each other's mouths and the touch of each other's skin would have been too distracting, too necessary.

Arthur would have put his dick in Eames' mouth, tight and wet and soft, and once Eames had fingered Arthur open, he'd have put his cock in Arthur's ass, and it would have been filthy, the things Arthur would have told him, the way he would have moaned for it. It would have made all the difference, the way Arthur would have wanted him -- did want him -- _does_ want him -- but it doesn't matter now.


End file.
